He floated, content. The hand stroking his head filled him with peace. It was all that mattered. It was all there was. After a while, thoughts formed, feathers dancing in an ever-shifting draft. Rising, falling, slipping to one side, falling again. They were lovely.

One hovered in place. There were markings on it, but the play of the rest held him, delighted him. The single feather moved in, the markings became more pronounced. He ignored it and it wafted closer, larger, bolder. Irritated, he glanced at it. Letters. His attention slid to the entertaining fluffs, bringing his smile back.

The end of his nose suddenly itched like mad. The blasted thing was so close it was tickling his nostrils. It drew back, in front of his eyes now. 'You'. A senseless sound. The other feathers had vanished and disappointment filled him.

A hand was on his head again. Peacefulness returned. He stirred, the touch of something smooth slipping over his bare skin. 'Must'. Cool air wafted across his exposed calf. 'Wake'. Light seeped through his closed eyelids, turning everything reddish. 'Up'.

The light brightened, fuzzy through his eyelashes, clearing as the little hairs moved apart. Sleg's face. Buneld's face.

"Darm. You're safe. We're home."

Noise. Meaningless. Sleg? The soothing tone seeped in. Something came to him, growing, intensifying. Oh, blast! Not just another noise. He swore that his head was stuck in a giant beehive - no! "That buzzing! I can't stand it. Make it stop! Please! Make it -"

The hand, Buneld's hand, was back on his head. The torture stopped. "You aren't hearing the sound, Darmon. It's a memory. There will be more. Let them come. Remember they're in the past. All in the past. Harmless now."

He looked into the man's eyes. So much like Sleg's. "Don't let go of my head."

"I'll help. But you have to hurry up and get doing it on your own. They're memories - finished. Done. No longer important."

It seemed like forever. Panic, the mind-killing sound, rising, the hand on his head pushing it all away, Buneld telling him again and again to do it himself. Then it finally kicked in. He shoved the terror from him and it left him alone. "Tell me what happened," he barked at Sleg.

"The wall opened and I ran inside. I couldn't see much, the light pouring out of the door was so bright. You were lying on the floor, barely conscious. I brought you straight here - to the mountains."

The light, he remembered the eye-watering shine ... when the door ... "Who opened the door?"

"Darmon," Buneld said. "That room isn't an Earthly room. The beings in that place aren't known to us. Whether it's another planet, another dimension - we don't know. What we do, is that the book doesn't belong there. It belongs here. With you. It's yours. They have no right to it, whoever they are."

"What were they doing with it? How did they get -"

"We can't do everything all at once."

Buneld's eyes flashed, and for a moment, Darm's adrenaline cut loose again - but the man smiled at him, a kindly smile, and the rush passed.

"There are a lot of questions," Buneld said. "In time, we'll have the answers. For now, you have to look after your physical needs. Eat. Rest. We can talk more later."

***

It was the first time he'd been out since he got to the mountains. He'd been enjoying the cool fog, broken into patches by the struggling early morning sun - He said it again. "No lo comprendo."

Where had the preacher come from? But Darm didn't speak Italian and talking to the man in English had only gotten a blank stare.

The hairs on his arms and neck raised and tingles ran all around his scalp. He wanted nothing to do with this guy. He'd figured Spanish might be close enough to get it across that he wanted to be left alone -

"I do speak English."

The man's lips hadn't moved ... The sunlight flickering through the fog in the clearing made it hard to see. His eyes were playing tricks. "Happy to hear that. My Spanish sucks. I'm late. No time to chat -"

"You must bring her to me."

Darm blinked a few times. He knew he'd heard the words, but he swore the guy's face hadn't moved. "I don't know what you're talking about. And I'm late for breakfast. Enjoy your walk."

He turned and headed for Sleg's house - then silently cursed the hand that fell on his shoulder. Twisting off to the side, he kept going. "Leave me alone!" He took a few more steps, then stopped dead. His warning growl hadn't had any effect.

The preacher was now in front of him, blocking the narrow path into the thick pines. The idea that the stranger was even a man, never mind one of the cloth, was long gone. Darm's growing awareness of something disgusting, putrid - he had to get out of there, away from that creepy ... thing.

Telekinesis wasn't something he bothered with much - his experiences as a kid ... Things were different now. The trouble-maker was lifted. When Darm could see shoe soles, he shot underneath and ran full tilt down the trail. He didn't look back.

He burst out of the trees into Sleg's yard. A flash of blue, shining, almost silver, stopped him but before he could look up he was snatched right off his feet. The ground fell away in a dizzying rush. He closed his eyes to damp the vertigo - and in a vain attempt to shut out his fear. It wasn't Sleg carrying him away.

***

He couldn't back up any further. The bed he stood on was in the corner and so was he. The feel of Lunam's wings on him was driving him around the bend even through his clothes. The daemon was on his knees but Darm still had to look up. "Let me go! Leave me alone!"

"I won't hurt you! Kiata delights in my attention. What on earth makes you so skittish?"

Kiata? How the blazes could that poor little woman have survived being mauled by -

Lunam rocked back on his haunches and folded his wings back, leaving the object of Darm's terror in full view. He forced his eyes up, stared into the glowing, sapphire orbs, and pleaded with everything he had. "Please. I don't want to. Don't make me. Please don't."

The daemon's face shifted into a perplexed smirk. "Far from me to force you. You're at risk. You understand I brought you here for safety - and to educate you. Being physically close accentuates that."

"Think of something else!"

Lunam wrapped himself in his wings and Darm made good his escape, perching on the edge of the chair farthest away from the daemon, ready to run.

"I've never dealt with anything like this. I've met many urhani, but never one like you. The usual methods seem not to work."

The usual? He didn't want to know. "Maybe I could just study the book?"

The big daemon looked thoughtful now and after a moment he said, "There are questions ... I'll get the book and you can start searching for answers."

Darm waited until Lunam had left the bedroom then walked slowly to the den. He'd be searching for answers, all right. But not to the questions the daemon had in mind, whatever they were.