Al sniffed the air, probably smelling the dinner I'd prepared about an hour before I'd called him. At his hopeful look, I sighed and went to the fridge to fish out the leftovers. I put the casserole dish I'd stored them in into the microwave and fetched the buns back from the pantry. I'd called him over on his Saturday. The least I could do was feed him, I figured.

I waited until he'd polished off the rest of the leftovers before finally instigating the conversation that I had originally meant to have with him. "That spell. The disguise/appearance spell you used to become… Pierce. Is it the same as the one I've been stirring for my costume changes?"

He leaned back in his chair (my chair) and thought a moment while I took his plate to the sink. "Essentially, yes. There is another ingredient and another step to preparing the base in order to become another person."

"Does that also grant you their abilities?" I asked in an off-hand manner, hoping to gather more information than I would if he thought it really mattered that much to me.

"If that is my wish when I invoke the spell, yes."

"So when you morphed into Ivy that first time, when you gave me my scar. You were using that curse," I hypothesized aloud merely for the benefit of keeping him talking.

"So I was," he grinned, as if pleased that I made the connection. I made a noncommittal hum as I washed the rest of the dishes. "It's quite the ingenious concoction. I do believe that it was Dali who originally came up with it, back before our banishment. The type of ability, and the creature who has it determines the extra ingredient needed to affect the change."

"What would you need to become a were?" I wondered.

"A bit of the animal the were would shift into. Wolf hair for a wolf and so forth. That extra ingredient would allow you to use the other form to affect a shift." I remembered the curse I'd used to become a wolf. "The rest is just a standard disguise. You picture in your mind what you would look like when you invoke the disguise. It merely takes imagination and a good bit of concentration."

"So, what of a vampire?"

"Oh, that's easier than a were. We created them out of our own DNA, some sidhe, and a particular strain of the humans who were running about at the time. They were, in the beginning, just foot soldiers in the war. I was quite young when they made that particular breakthrough. Since we have part of what comprises a vampire in us to begin with, our blood is the the extra ingredient. Although it is minimal at best to the function of the curse, I tend to use a mosquito or some other blood sucker as a catalyst to twist it."

"And I suppose that a transformation into a witch needs nothing?"

"Rachel, I'd be crippling myself if I tried to take on the abilities of an every day witch. I just use the appearance and keep my own abilities, which go far beyond what a garden variety witch can do."

"And this potion, it would work on anyone, not just a demon, if a demon invoked it first?"

"As with all our curses, this is also true. Some need a bit of finesse and tailoring to the individual for whom it was meant, as in the case of the size-changing spell I believe Ceri made for your pixy friend."

Possibilities seemed to stretch outward in a million different directions at once. Thoughts about how the potion might be used to keep Ivy from losing her soul had my head spinning. If it was truly as versatile as he said, I could use it as a base for experimentation on the issue of Ivy's eventual demise. "Could it be used to make a person permanently another thing at the point of death?"

"Ah, you're wondering if the solution to Ivy's eventual loss of soul could be that simple," he surmised, looking at me with a bit of a half-smile. His smile fell. "No. At the point of death, she would revert to herself, the magic tied to her life force going with it. She would be an undead, just as before."

"Ah well," I murmured, smiling sadly. "It was worth a shot."

"You'd be much better off pursuing the avenue of trapping her soul in a bottle at the moment of death and somehow putting it back in after she had made the transition."

"I was afraid of that."

"Much as I hate to say, you might want to talk to that elf of yours about it. I understand he did much the same thing to you, while he kept your body alive with machines."

"You might be right about that."

"In any case, I can tell you for a fact that the curse wouldn't work on inanimate objects. It requires a soul and a life force to draw power and sustain the change. Whatever they used to make your statue walk away on its own, it wasn't this."

"We just don't know enough about it to begin narrowing things down. I want to go to fountain square to see if you or I can pick up on anything the others might have missed."

"Excellent. I'll get my hat. Bring your gargoyle, too."

"Er, just a minute. I want to make something to change into." I grabbed one of the uninvoked phials from the back of the sink and snatched up a glossy photo of the fur coat I wanted to try out. It was long and warm, soft to the touch, and black as night. The mannequin also had an outfit beneath: a pair of black leather pants and a blood red cable knit turtleneck sweater. I mentally added the boots I'd snapped a photograph of to the set and fixed the image in my mind. When I had it, I pricked my finger and massaged three drops into the potion. I gave it a few swift shakes and drank it down when I was sure it was ready. It was warm as I had hoped. A few more minutes in the church and I'd be sweating bullets.

Al raised an approving eyebrow at my outfit. "You're getting faster. That's good."

"I look like Vamp bait," I grumbled. "But at least I'll be warm."

Al affected a change, as well. He stood before me looking like no one I'd ever met. Sandy brown hair, brown eyes, classically handsome features, grey trousers, black turtleneck, and a charcoal wool london fog trench coat completed the look of a nondescript well-to-do businessman after hours.

"Who the hell are you supposed to be?" I demanded without heat. It was a far sight better than what he'd arrived in.

"I'm nobody. That way no one will remember me. All anyone will see is you, in that getup."

I had to admit to myself that it made a hell of a lot of sense, although I said nothing aloud. Al's head was plenty inflated as far as I was concerned, so I merely walked to the back door, pausing for Bis to hop up on my shoulder. "Let's go."

We made the drive in good time. Conversation revolved around the job at hand. Mostly, I asked him questions about creative uses for spells I already knew and curses of which I'd only read about. In typical Al fashion, he answered succinctly without going into a lot of detail. It didn't seem like he was trying to keep things from me, more that this was the way he thought about things and that he wasn't used to explaining things to a novice when the barest minimum usually snagged him familiars. I could see that it was a hurdle we'd have to pass in time.

"Did you get me that book, yet?"

"Working on it."

"Hmph."

"There's a space. You missed it."

"Handicap parking only."

"I could make you a placard. It wouldn't take but a moment."

"And what if an actual handicap person needed the space? I'll park in the garage."

"Suit yourself."

I took the ticket the machine printed out and waited for the arm to complete its upward swing to admit me into the parking lot beneath the square. I navigated the car through the meandering path between parked cars until I found an open space one level down near the elevators. I waited while Bis clambered from the backseat to regain my shoulder before stepping out of the car.

We rode the elevators up to the surface without speaking. We were the only ones going up, but the claustrophobic atmosphere stifled any further conversation. When the doors slid open, I breathed a sigh of relief. My history with elevators was weighing heavy on my mind. If Al knew of my discomfort, he said nothing.

The part of the square immediately around the fountain was still cordoned off with yellow tape. News crews and nosy people with cameras were still milling about, getting snapshots and video of the desecrated landmark. Officers of the IS stood around in their cold weather uniforms holding steaming styrofoam cups of coffee, still gathering evidence and taking statements. It looked like they might also be there as guards to prevent further antics with the fountain, but I found it rather ridiculous; like shutting the barn door after the horses had fled.

I took in the rest of the scene. The seasonal ice skating rink off to the far side of the square was doing a good bit of business despite, or perhaps because of, the recent media attention to the area. Everybody wanted their five minutes of fame, and it looked as though reporters were interviewing the people who wandered up to get their thoughts and feelings about what had happened to the fountain.

It wasn't long before one of the reporters spotted me and I had a camera swung into my face, the light for night shooting blinding me for a moment. Al peeled away, pretending that we hadn't arrived together, and I was glad for it. I'd brought him out here mostly so that he could get a feel for the traces of energy and what kind of power had been pulled through the line there recently. I didn't mind playing decoy while he did the actual investigating. I never did manage to take that class on crime scene etiquette, and I hadn't been approached by either the FIB or the IS to consult on this one. In short, as far as they were concerned, I was just another lookie-loo hanging about while the real police work happened.

"Rachel!" The were reporter, Marlene, exclaimed to get my attention, as if the bright light on the camera hadn't already done that. "Rachel Morgan! Do you have any information about what happened to the fountain?"

"Ah, no, other than what I saw on the news. I just got here."

"Your partner is working with the IS as a consultant. Is that correct?"

"Ivy Tamwood of Vampiric Charms, my partner, has been working with the IS on this investigation," I said carefully. I didn't want to say anything that they could later edit to say something completely at odds with what I meant.

"Is it true that the Spirit of Cincinnati just up and walked away?" Marlene leaned forward, as if to be taken into my confidence. Her demeanor was light and inquisitive, but still I was wary of her intentions.

"Some eyewitness reports say so," I replied noncommittally.

"Does that mean that there was magical involvement in the crime?" Marlene tried another tack. I wasn't sure what she was getting at.

"The Coven has been called in to determine that," I supplied, figuring that it was public knowledge.

"Are you here as a representative to the coven or as an independent consultant?" Ah, so she wanted to know whether or not they were going to tap me as a resource and if I had insider information.

"Nope. I just came for the ice skating." I smiled and gestured to the rink.

"Is there anything else you can tell Channel 9's viewers about what kind of spell might have been used to make the statue get up and walk away like that?" Figuring I wasn't really on the case, she was hopeful that I might be able to shed some light on it any way. My reputation preceded me in this, and I couldn't see the harm in engaging in some speculation. That's all I had at this point, anyway.

"Well, I've thought about it and I can't really say how they did it. The statue walking off could have been an illusion to cover the theft, or they might have actually animated it somehow. As I've not been asked to help with the investigation, I haven't gotten up close to the fountain. I hope they call me when they find out who did this, so I can take them down."

"Thanks for your time, Rachel," Marlene smiled. I wondered if it was to cover the fact that she was going to use my statement to stir up speculation in the press, or if the two options I'd given were going to go on the viewer phone-in survey. I hoped for the latter.

"Any time," I smiled, blowing bunny-eared kisses to the camera as I walked off toward the rink.

I looked around for Al, seeing that he had managed to get as close as he could to the area cordoned off around the fountain. The IS agents were keeping people well back. I tried to catch his eye, but he was staring up at the fountain with his second sight. Other witches in the crowd were doing the same, so he didn't look out of place. Those witches had given Al a wide berth, though, seeing a thousand years of layered smut on his aura through that sight. I gave up trying to get his attention and continued on toward the little shack where they rented out skates to those who didn't have their own. There wasn't a charge to use the rink, but most people didn't own their own skates so the rink owners made money through the skate rentals.

Before I could get there, Dominic Thereu, the new head of the IS runner's division in Cincinnati, swooped in to block my progress. Although we hadn't had much history together, he was an up-and-coming runner at the same time that I was pulling familiars out of trees on the slow track to retirement. Dennon and he had been buddies, although Dominic was a living vamp where Dennon was merely a hopeful human scion to Kisten's murderer. The Thereu family was as old as the Tamwoods, not as connected, but still rather impressive in certain circles. He'd been a part of Piscary's camarilla, and was joined the rest when Rynn Cormel came to take Piscary's place, but he had been loyal to Piscary and Dennon, so rather hated me. He had the sleek bearing of the predator he was, spiky black hair in a crew cut, was about six-five and was built like a brick shit house. I liked to call him 'Dennon, mark two.' "Morgan. Returning to the scene of the crime?"

"You can't be seriously trying to pin this one on me," I scoffed, craning my neck to peer up at him.

"This has your fingerprints all over it," he replied. "Strange magical crap always seems to point back to you. If there's demon involvement, it's most certainly your fault."

"Go Turn yourself, Thereu. Unless you have actual fingerprints linking me to this, or some other hard evidence, I'll not be turned into a scapegoat for your public relations nightmare."

"I'm watching you," he warned, his eyes narrowing. "I've advised the Coven to do the same, but they said they're already keeping tabs on you."

"Of course they are," I muttered. "So they know that I was at Trent's or home when this went down. When exactly did this happen?"

"Eyewitness reports say that it happened at six p.m. exactly. Can you verify your whereabouts at that time?"

"Of course I can. I woke up at Trent Kalamack's around 4:30. I had dinner with the family. That took a little over an hour, and between 6:15 and 6:45, I was in the car with one of Trent's drivers on my way home. After that, I was inside for about an hour or so before I went out back to my graveyard with Bis, here and went to the everafter. I was there until midnight. Then I slept for a full twelve hours. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

"During any of these times, were you ever alone?"

"Nope. I woke up with Ceri at my bedside and was with somebody every waking moment since then, other then when I went to go pee, but there was somebody outside, guarding the door all the time," I assured him with a mocking tone. "Now quit harassing me and let me go skate."

"All right, Morgan. We'll be sure to check out your alibi. I don't have to tell you to stay where we can reach you, do I? I'm sure you know the drill."

"Fine, Dominic. Now, can I go skate?"

"You're free to go. For now."

I felt his eyes boring into my back the whole time I was paying for my skates. He finally quit staring at me as I sat down to lace them on. Bis scrambled off my shoulder and went to find a nice, high perch to watch the spectacle below. I made awkward progress over the rubber mats they put down between the benches and the ramp leading up to the ice, but once I gained it, I was happily skating around in a circle just like everybody else.

The grooves worn into the ice from the passage of multiple blades were a little tough to navigate at first, and falling children became deadly obstacles a time or two, but it felt great to be sliding about in neat lines as I felt the wind rushing by my face. I hadn't been skating in ages… not since Halloween the year before. What started as a ruse to get Al past the scrutiny of reporters was becoming an unexpected bit of fun. I had almost forgotten my purpose for coming here in the first place, until a figure in a charcoal grey wool coat came sliding up beside me.

I turned my head and smiled with the sheer joy of skating to my erstwhile companion. He returned the smile with a little bit of surprise, and I laughed aloud at his expression. "I didn't know you could ice skate," I said, turning to go in reverse, hoping that he'd warn me if I was going to run into somebody.

"Of course. There were times during the turn of the last century that it was the only thing to do in winter. I had to learn to skate in order to ingratiate myself into certain circles of influence."

"Hmm," I said, not buying his cool act. "And of course you never had fun doing it."

"I didn't say that," he grinned in response. "I merely meant…"

"Oh, forget about that for now. I'm here, you're here, the ice is here. Let's just skate!" I turned and put on a burst of speed, flitting through the slower skaters and enjoying the freedom of it. I wasn't surprised when he caught up with me, but I was pleased by it for some reason.

Once I'd had enough and my leg muscles and ankles were beginning to protest, I made my way to the exit, slowing so that I wouldn't go flying on my face when I ran out of ice and made the jump to the rubber-covered boards. The world around me halted with a jolt. My legs felt shaky and my progress once again awkward, after the smooth gliding I'd been doing for so long.

I returned the skates to the guy behind the rentals counter with a sigh of regret, but I was getting pretty chilled and could use a good cup of coffee to warm me up. Cocoa would do, but I preferred them together. A mocha sounded heavenly right then. Bis came gliding down from his perch on the concrete observation balcony, causing people to gasp at his sudden arrival. His ears and tail drooped a little at the attention: the gargoyle equivalent of an embarrassed blush. I smiled and put out my arm for him to clamber up from the railing beside me and turned to see Al returning his own skates to the rental guy, as well.

Together, we returned to the parking garage and I navigated us back to the exit, paying the exorbitant parking fee without a qualm. The gate raised, and I drove out into the night, headed toward Clifton. Al was strangely quiet as I drove through the heart of downtown Cincinnati, lost in his own thoughts once again.

"So, what did you find?" I finally broke the silence, remembering the reason that we'd gone to the square in the first place.

"There's been so much activity there that it was a little difficult to ferret out the new from the old. The Coven has been busy with their detection spells and amulets and such, but I did sense something… strange. It had an odd flavor. I'm not sure at all what it means."

"Well, what did it feel like?"

"It's hard to explain. It's not purely demonic in origin, I can tell you that much. It doesn't have a witchy flavor, either. The closest thing I could compare it to would be wild magic, and I haven't dealt with that in a very long time."

"Wild magic, like the elves use?"

"A bit like that. A little different. It's hard to say."

"Maybe I really do need to speak to Trent," I murmured, hoping like hell that he had nothing to do with it. It wasn't his style, but stranger things had happened. Perhaps it was another elf clan trying to muscle in on his territory.

"It felt like…" he continued, working it out as he spoke, "like wild magic and fey magics, and even a little bit of demonic energy thrown in for spice. Whoever did this, they're playing with forces the likes of which haven't been seen in a very long time."

"Should we be worried?" I asked aloud, forgetting for the moment who I was sitting next to.

"Not yet. We shall see what comes up in the next few days. Either they did this as a test, and will be doing something on a larger scale, or they wanted the statue for something."

"Great. The new head of IS's runners division grilled me for an alibi," I mentioned.

"I saw. It's a good thing you have one."

"The best money can't buy," I concluded. "For once, I'm glad I was summoned to Trent's place and that I had to beg a ride home. It covered my ass like nothing else could. No one is going to accuse Trent of lying on my behalf, not after I tagged him at his wedding."

"That was a lovely spectacle," Al remarked with a fond smile of remembrance. His face fell abruptly as the memory continued. "Although, what came after wasn't quite as fun."

"Your fight with Piscary?"

"And my banishment. By you."

"You win some, you lose some. It all worked out in the end, don't you think?"

"Jury's still out on that, love."

"But I bet a latte would sway it just a bit?"

"You read my mind."

The Highland was hopping when we arrived. Every table was full and we had to sit at the bar. For once, Al wasn't trying to rush me out, so when I draped my coat over the back of the swiveling stool, I had some time to explore while we waited for our orders to be made. Bis was in seventh heaven. There were perches everywhere and tons of things to look at. The forties-something guy who had served us before wasn't there. Instead, there was a twenties-something human with thick glasses, curly strawberry blonde hair, and a short, reddish-blond beard running around behind the bar. He had a goofy, geeky kind of charm and a fast-paced, efficient mien about him that I could appreciate in a crowd like this one. It seemed impossible that one guy could do everything that he was: taking orders, making them, delivering them to the tables, bussing, washing dishes, and ringing customers out without anybody having to wait too long. I would have been hiding, crying on the floor behind the bar if I had to deal with all that. Conversation was thick with philosophical debates interspersed with meaningless chitchat and silly gossip. No one seemed to notice or care who I was. Either everybody was being tactful or they were wrapped up in their own lives to the point that they never noticed I was among them. I cherished the feeling of anonymity that afforded.

I trusted Al to order my usual as I went off to the bathroom. I kept an eye on the status of our orders at the bar while I perused the bookshelves and watched the fish swimming around in the aquariums. A clatter from one of the shelf by the grinder had everyone looking up to see my embarrassed gargoyle righting a teapot he'd nearly knocked off. Bis glided down to join me by the painted green piano to look in on the single goldfish swimming in the tank on the top, where he could do no more damage. Somebody had taped a little strip of paper up on the glass, proclaiming the fish to be named, simply, 'Lucky'. As Bis climbed up to my shoulder and I lent a helping hand, I saw the lines of Cincinnati in a flash, noting that there was a ley line running from the big one under the university out back of the coffeehouse. Intrigued, I looked over my shoulder to see Al sitting at the bar, sans drinks. I went for my coat to go outside and investigate further.

Al raised a questioning eyebrow and I gestured to the door leading outside to the deck. "I want to go look out there. Will you be okay waiting here for our drinks?"

"Sure," he replied with a shrug.

"Thanks." As I made my way through the narrow walkway between the piano and the water dispenser, I heard the geeky barista ask him in a low voice, "Your date. Is that really Rachel Morgan?"

I didn't hear what Al said in response, and wasn't sure I cared to. I continued on as if I hadn't heard any of it and gained the outside with a minimum of fuss.

Out on the deck, a couple of living vamps sat smoking cigarettes by an iron fireplace that looked to have been transplanted from somebody's log-cabin-living-room onto the end of the wood deck. A cylindrical, metal chimney jutted out the top, looking comical in that it seemed like it didn't belong. The vamps paused in their conversation to glance back at me. I avoided their scrutiny by taking the flight of concrete steps to my right downward to the ground.

Before me was a gate that led to the sidewalk outside. To my left, there was a brick pathway leading beside the columns holding up the deck, past the trunk of a tree, and out to a little hidden patio with trees growing between the bricks and little cafe' tables and chairs set beneath the canopy the trees made. From the branches hung a two strings of spherical lights, and the trees sported white solstice tree lights spiraling up the trunks. There was a little fire pit off to the side. It looked like it hadn't seen a fire in months. Intrigued, I wandered into the space itself, feeling like I'd stepped into somebody's private little garden.

The patchy snow on the ground, tables, and chairs could not detract from the beauty of the place. As I got closer, I could see that in the center of the space between the trees, etched in the bricks that paved the ground, was a circle about five feet across. The odd table out, the circular one with the yellow earth tone mosaic tiled surface, sat off-center in the circle, with a few of the wire-framed chairs dispersed haphazardly around it. The circle didn't look like it got much use, but it was nice to know it was there. The Highland was obviously a witch-friendly place.

I started to shiver. Bis noted I was getting cold and left my shoulder to nestle up against my neck. I smiled at the gesture, as well as how it let me see the little line I had sensed before from within the building. The circle rested right over the line, as did the fire pit. It boded for powerful magic being worked in the little courtyard. I felt rather than knew that the witches that used the circle followed the older ways, from back before the Turn. The circle's small size and the courtyard's secluded feel would have been perfect for clandestine meetings at the festivals and full moons.

Standing so close to the line, it was nothing to open myself to it, letting the warm wash of energy flow through me. Bis began humming along with the line, and I heard a far-off chime as we became fully attuned, together. My heart raced, then settled, as I became one with the line and a sense of inner peace filled me.

Standing there, communing, I was able to reach out my thoughts to touch Al's mind, to sense him. He was heading my way from the stairs, with my mocha. I held the line until he was nearly upon me. I let go and turned, smiling, carrying that sense of inner peace with me. Al faltered as our eyes met. I reached out and took my coffee, saying nothing, holding onto my mysterious smile.

"You found the line," he said with certainty.

"And the circle, and the fire pit," I agreed. "It looks like it's been out of use for a while."

"Shall we rectify that?" he suggested.

"Yes. I like it here. It's peaceful."

Al went to get the firewood from the stack beneath the deck. He built a modest little fire and lit it from his thoughts using the line. We pulled the table from the circle closer to the fire and selected two of the chairs. The two of us sat with the table between us, enjoying the sound of the crackling fire as the rest of the logs lit from the kindling. Time ceased to exist for a while. We sat in silence, drinking our coffees and relishing the solitude. A passing ambulance broke the peace, but was gone quickly and the quiet returned. Bis sat in my lap, lazily allowing me to settle a hand on his warmth. The lines were all there in my thoughts through my direct contact with him, but I refrained from communing with them fully. I wanted to be in my own skin for a little while.

The fire burned low and my coffee was gone. I gave Bis a light tap to warn him that I was going to get up so I wouldn't drop him. He clambered back up to my shoulder and I stood. Al stared into the fire, seeming not to be paying any attention to me, so I quietly retraced my steps to go back inside. I noticed that the smoking vamps had gone.

The rush we'd come in during had ended. Some tables still sported customers, either in groups or working on laptops by themselves, but the mad crush of bodies was gone. The music playing through the speakers above the bar reflected the mood, soft jazz over low voices so different from the clamor of our entrance it seemed I'd come into a different coffee house instead of the one I'd left. I made my way to the bar, meeting the barista's gaze boldly, daring him to comment on my identity while I was there to hear it.

He didn't. "Two more of the same?" he asked, drying dishwater from his hands on one of the hanging towels.

"Yes, please. Oh, and three shots of Irish whiskey, in rocks glasses, straight up." I put Al's and my empty mugs on the bar, which the barista quickly took away and dropped into the suds in the sink.

"You got it," he replied, grabbing two more clean mugs and making our coffees.

He put the coffees and the shots on an empty tray on the bar and I smiled my thanks at his forethought. I could handle carrying three glasses at once, but more than that would surely end up needing a mop and bucket to clean up.

I carried the tray carefully back down to the patio, where Al still sat lost in his own thoughts. I put the tray on the table and held out one of the shots, waving it beneath his nose.

He seemed to come back to awareness with a jolt. "Jameson?" he asked, craning his neck back to see the glass I held before him. His hand reached up and took it, cradling it with something like reverence.

"Yup," I replied, and took up my own. Bis grabbed the one that was left, red eyes glowing up at me with gratitude, almost disbelieving his luck. "To Saturday," I toasted, and was echoed by my companions. The clink of glasses lent a bit of class to our outdoor sanctuary. I brought the glass to my lips, knocked it back, and felt the lovely burn go all the way down to my belly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the other two do the same.

Unable to hold it in any longer, Bis succumbed to the coughs. "Smooth," he rasped out when the fit was done. Al and I both burst out laughing at the same time.

"I do believe you just popped his alcohol cherry," Al remarked, wiping tears from his eyes.

"Ah, well. He's over fifty. It's about time somebody did!" I exclaimed, letting the lethargy take me down into my chair. I wasn't really a drinker, either. One shot was about my limit.

"I think I need a chaser," Bis wheezed, and I handed him my coffee. He took a dainty sip and tried to hand it back to me, not wanting to take more than he should. I held up a hand to ward it off.

"Take what you need," I admonished, and he took a larger swig. This time, when he held it out to me, I received it without further protest.

"I need water," he admitted. "But that was really good. Thanks."

"Well, there's water upstairs in the dispenser."

"I remember. I'll be back." With that, he was gone, leaving me and Al alone.