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Calliope, who had not moved. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, she turned and left the room, hitting the doors with enough force to rattle the glass. Vikous watched her go, taking his time following.
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    â€œShe’s unpleasant, Vikous.” Gluen spoke around a mouthful of sweets, sucking stickiness from his fingers and examining the tray held before him. “You should rein her in.”
    Vikous paused, as though he might say something in reply, then kept walking. Only the guard by the door noticed that his mouth was stretched in a smile, and on the whole, he wished he hadn’t.

I NTERLUDE
    Whispers echoed through dusty rooms, making outrageous claims or revealing hurtful secrets. It was difficult to tell the one from the other.
    The thing stood on the threshold of what had once been a family room.
    â€œThey said you managed to contact the girl again.”
    â€œIs that what they said?” Joshua White stood (after a fashion) at the front window, watching sleeting rain slide down the dirty glass. He did not turn to face the thing speaking.
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWell”—Joshua leaned forward until his hand seemed to rest on the wall—“I suppose they’re right. They seem to know about things like that.”
    â€œThey do.” The thing shifted in the doorway, for all the world like a child afraid to approach an angry parent. “They also say you sent a message to Gluen.” One bright eye glimmered in the gloom. “How did you do that?”
    Joshua almost turned. His head moved a few inches toward his shoulder and the thing standing in the doorway. “They don’t just talk to you.” His eyes flickered. “Not anymore.”
    The thing blinked. “I’m . . . sorry about that. That’s not why I—”
    â€œShe didn’t like Vikous, did she?” There was a hint of a smile in Joshua’s voice. His eyes were distant and far away.
    Again, the thing blinked. “No.” It straightened, its arm scraping like a rasp on the door frame. “No, she didn’t.”
    â€œI didn’t figure she would.” This time, it was clear Joshua was smiling, and the room was silent for so long that he thought the thing had gone. “That’ll change.”
    â€œDo you want to—”
    â€œNo.” Joshua’s smile faded. His voice, if it could be called that anymore, went flat. “I don’t.”
    The thing didn’t seem to know how to reply. Silence filled up the room like cold water. “This isn’t—I thought this would be different,” it finally said.
    â€œI wouldn’t know about that.”
    It took a short step into the room. “That’s not true! You—” It stopped short, panting through an almost-normal mouth. “It doesn’t matter how it starts with her, you know; it always starts different, but it always ends the same.”
    â€œDoes it?” Joshua had turned back to his original position, but during the conversation, the rain had stopped, while the whispering in the corners had gotten stronger.
    â€œIt’s a long way to have to go.” The thing tried to sneer, but its lips trembled. “A very long way.”

7
    Calliope tried, and failed, to keep Josh from seeing she was crying. “Okay . . . okay, just . . . explain it to me again, please?” Josh gave her a look she knew well enough. She shook her head. “I’m not trying to be difficult; I’m just having trouble understanding, okay?”
    â€œIt’s not complicated, Calli.” Josh leaned forward in his chair, rested his elbows on his knees, and wove his fingers together. His eyes were on the carpet, though, not her, as though he were reading from a note card she couldn’t see. “I don’t think this—the band—is getting us where we thought we’d be, and honestly I’m too old to keep banging my