"You didn't do that!"

Darm held his ground. It's too bad he hadn't really burned the stuff but first chance he had, he would.

"It's not hocus pocus. Your cloak and hat are your protection. It's not safe for you to get the book without them. Now tell me where they are and we'll -"

"There's nothing to get but ashes, Sledge. Let's think of another way."

"Darm," She said. "You didn't burn them."

She floated right into his mind, just like She had last night. There was no stopping Her. He could see Her ... And his will, as it disappeared, flowing into an accelerating, clock-wise funnel, right down the drain ... "That's not fair."

Her throaty laugh was music, velvet on his ears.

"And lying to me is?"

He'd follow Her to the ends of the Earth, anything to please Her - blast it all! "They're in a locker at the zipstation closest to my old flop room."

The sound of Sleg's snickering - Darm's very soul plunged into a huge bucket of ice. It was coming, he knew it was ..

The daemon floated up near the ceiling, snorting. Then he started to roll, slowly, giggling maniacally. "Such ...a - tough -"

"Guy. Hard as nails, I know. But I do wonder, Sleg," Darm said, carefully controlling his tone.

The cackling died down to a chuckle, then to an intermittent 'huh, huh'. "About what?"

"What I need protection from." He waited for at least a minute, but Sleg didn't seem to have an answer. And She stayed out of it.

***

He gave himself a clip and the beat-up lip escaped his top teeth. Sleg still hadn't told him what he was up to in El Grande, but Darm was sure now that his reaction to Sledge was off. Whatever he was doing, it was decent ...

Do what he was asked to. Yeah, more like what he was told to. And put up with being treated like a sap? Nuts! He was grinding his teeth again. He took a deep breath. "It doesn't matter." His understanding - he snorted so hard his nose was stinging. His utter lack of it - better off sucking it up ... at least until he could come up with something else.

There were compensations ... his eyes closed. Ohhh. Were there ever. And now he knew that he wasn't nuts ... She really did exist.

The chair squeaked as he leaned back. Nothing he'd ever experienced came close to the night before last. Was there a way to throttle it? Keep it from knocking him senseless? His eyes refocused, taking in the papers all over the dresser. The daemons must have a way or else how could they even be functional?

Sleg pressured him to study. And it wasn't like he didn't want to - but there was an eternity's worth. The idea that he'd ever put a dent in it ... Never mind finding a way to get free of the daemon ...

Eliminating useless stuff would help. And if the mess of spreadsheets in front of him right now weren't useless, he was a tree toad. His eyes squeezed shut - no, no, no - never, ever say things like that ... Forcing them open, he made himself look down - and breathed again.

Well, one thing was obvious. The faster he learned the sooner he'd quit screwing up.

He sat up straight and started reading - oh, he just had to stop. What the blazes was the good of this? How could Sleg not see how ridiculous it was? This kind of spirit, that kind of spirit and the other kind of spirit over there. Hundreds of categories - defined and sorted by appearance, habit, habitat, attitude, preferences ...

Yeah, classified like birds, or insects, or mammals - what about potential? Everything living thing had it. No two exactly the same. No two entirely different. Each here to fulfill its unique goal, purpose - and each stymied, one way or another, by circumstances. Some within control. Some not.

Sure it was hard to tell which was which. Preconceived ideas, passed generation to generation ... taught from birth what it means to be a this, or a that, like it actually matters ... indoctrinated.

He jotted it on a sticky note, then plastered it on the first page of the grid - right in the middle where it couldn't be missed.

Pushing the papers aside, he uncovered something even worse. The blueprint of the building that led - well, connected somehow - to the library. The pain in his mouth reminded him. Leave it be! No use staring at the layout anymore. It was burnt into his memory.

And he'd run out of excuses to stall. His muscles tensed - being caught in that room. But what might happen if he did manage to get the book out of there? No difference, still full of doubt.

The only thing he was sure of was that he'd never sway Sleg, never talk him into leaving the book where it was. He'd just sic Her on him, and that'd be the end of it -

He heard the entrance door and glanced at the only viewpane in the bedroom. Almost dark already? An army of butterflies invaded his stomach. He wasn't ready. He'd never be.

Sledge slipped in, his guru of gurus' aura instantly turning the flutters to knots. The gold-encrusted, silk-encased Sledge faded. The ruby-red shine of Sleg took over, wings gently waving, eyes glowing.

The sight of him, the hope of Her returning, was almost enough -

"Are you ready?"

Almost enough crumbled to dust. Not even close. His eyes dropped to the floor. "No point in lying. Of course, I'm not. But tomorrow's the day."

Sleg was reading the yellow patch on the spreadsheets, a thoughtful look on his face. "I'll think this over. Thank you. Now get changed."

Darm gave him a sideways look. "Changed? Into what?" Why was he being so polite? Not a good -

"Your cloak. Get your key and your hat. Hurry."

It wasn't a chill that ran through him. It was a full freeze. Solid. If he moved a muscle - he could see himself shatter into millions of icy shards, never to be put together again, never -

"Don't think about it. Just do it."

Slowly, he rose from the chair, eyes fixated on the cloak in the closet. If only he really had burned the things -

"Earth to Darmon. Come in, Darmon."

The remaining shred of his mind went numb. The coat slid off the hanger, still buttoned. It went over his head and his arms jammed through the sleeves. His hand dug into the pack, yanking the fob out. Fingers picked the rectangular sliver of black metal from the dozens hanging on it.

His mouth formed words. "Adikna. Adikna." It was free of the ring. The end of it found the chain around his neck. "Ankida, Ankida." The key securely fastened to a link, the necklace fell back down behind his collar.

A cloth bag sat on the closet floor, the silver-buckled hat sticking out. On his head it went. A hand turned him around.

Sledge reached out and shifted the hat by its brim. "Looks better with the buckle off to one side," he said, taking Darm by the arm.

He had to sprint to keep up. They went straight to the service elevator and soon emerged from it to the rear of the commorancy's elegant, stone and ivy-covered living quarters.

The sun had set completely and the parking lot lights seemed too dim, as though they were filtered by thick fog.

Sleg's eyes suddenly gleamed right in front of him. Powerful arms held him tight.

His feet left the ground, the sound of beating wings drowned out by the staccato hissing of the traffic.

***

The instant Darm touched the heavy, gilded book, a soft humming started in his head. He gave it a shake, but it didn't go away. It was getting louder. His ears were full of it ... an annoying buzz now.

There was no time. He stuffed the book into the bag and turned around, carefully walking toward the shelves that hid the exit. He passed the last row of tables, then looked back. There weren't any tracks and his hand went to the chain, feeling for the key, to have it ready.

The thudding pulse in his fingers was synced to his banging heart and the rhythm of his teeth grinding together. The noise was worse - Go. Get out!

His foot lifted to take the next step and the only door in the library flew wide open. It smashed against the wall, triggering an insane hammering in his chest.

The sudden light washed his sight away. The buzzing exploded into a constant roar in his ears. An ungodly howl ripped through what was left of his awareness. His own voice. 'Sleg! Help me, Sleg. Save me, Sleg'.

The force of his summons crashed into the infernal thundering in his head, a screaming war that shredded his entire being.