CHAPTER 9

"Hey Mom. Hey Dad. What's for dinner tonight?"

Mae's parents looked up in surprise to see her in the doorway. It was funny how their heads moved exactly at the same time, their expressions so similar. "You're home so early!" said Mom.

Mae made an effort not to snort. "Yeah, I just got off work. Smells nice in here."

"You never come home for dinner," said Dad. "You always eat tacos or go out with your friends."

Did they really have to make a whole thing out of it? "I'm home today!" she said cheerfully.

"Any particular reason?" asked Mom, already getting out a third plate for the table.

Mae sighed inwardly. "Out of money. Can't go out without money, unless I want to mooch off someone. And I've done enough of that."

"So you've come home to mooch off your loving parents."

"Aw Mom, it doesn't count as mooching! This is like a free meal that's there if I want it." She bounded over, a little less sprightly than usual, and kissed her mother. "Parents are the best."

"There's mashed potatoes with red onions, and fish," said Dad. "And a green salad. But what happened to your money? Didn't you get a paycheck on Friday?"

Mae'd hoped they wouldn't ask that. But of course they did. "I actually sent half of it to a friend in Foxwood. I met him during the eclipse trip. He really needs the money." To help out a poor family in the woods, she didn't add.

Her parents exchanged a look, and this time Mom's face was noticeably more tender. "That's so very sweet of you," she said. "But are you sure it's a good idea? We're not exactly rolling in money ourselves… and this is someone you just met once?"

"It's something I had to do," Mae said. She took her plate and started spooning potatoes onto her plate. She loved the way her mom made mashed potatoes. She missed it even—she should eat dinner at home more often.

"You're not going to send him half of every check, are you?" asked Dad.

"Nah, probably not. But what's the problem? I thought you wanted me home for dinner!"

"I'm glad you're here," said Mom. "If you want to be generous with your money, that's your right."

"But just remember," added Dad. "We might have to move."

Mae was still afraid of that prospect, even though she'd been the one who'd encouraged them to consider it, given the possibility that Possum Springs was going to collapse when Black Goat left, or died… or did something worse. She was scared to leave and scared to stay, so she preferred not to think about it. "Yeah. I know. The fish smells good. What is that, catfish?"

"Haddock," said Mom. "Would you like some juice?"

"Heck yeah I want some juice. How did you get so good at cooking?"

"It was just something I had to do, I guess," Mom replied, pouring some kind of purple fruit juice into Mae's glass. "If we did have to move away… not that we want to… do you think you would be okay? You said you were okay during your trip."

"I don't know. I've been feeling a little bit… shaky since then," Mae confessed. It was true—she'd been getting urges to do something bad, like a twinge somewhere inside that she had to work out… except the only way to work it out was to take her bat and start swinging it at people's heads. She was starting to really wonder if Black Goat had been behind her 'shapes' pathology from the start. This felt different, but if she wasn't strong, the end result would be the same.

"Shaky? What do you mean?"

"Like… I can't just sit still. Like I have to… You know, I don't actually want to talk about it." Mae hated keeping stuff from her parents, but she somehow just didn't feel comfortable spilling her story to them like she had to Mr. Chazokov. It was probably because they were too close. If they didn't believe her, she couldn't just stay away.

"Oh, Mae. Have you been having those dreams again?"

"Kind of." They weren't the same dreams. They were worse. They were dreams about killing people. Dumping their bodies in the woods and feeling amazingly happy about it. Mae hated those dreams. She hated that she woke up from them feeling happy.

"Do you think we should be looking for a doctor out of town?" Mom asked.

Mae was ninety percent sure that wouldn't help. "Not yet. I want to see if I can ride it out. I mean, it's not like I'm useless, right? At least I'm employed."

Mom stopped dishing greens onto Mae's plate long enough to hug her gently from behind. "Don't even. You're never useless. We would love you just as much if you weren't employed."

"Really? Well in that case, maybe I'll just quit and go back to messing around all day," Mae suggested.

"I'm prepared to say I love you ten percent more for having a job," interjected Dad.

"Really?"

"Somewhere around there, yep."

Mae was somehow warmed by that. "Well, okay, Dad. I wouldn't want to give up that ten percent. I'll stick with Taco Buck."

Mom was giving Dad a scolding look across the table, but Mae could tell she didn't really mean it.

Work wasn't too bad these days. It took her mind off things other than tickets and taco meat and tables and tortillas. She still wasn't a great taco cook, which was part of why she'd asked Mom about her cooking, but that wasn't a big deal—what did people expect for a buck, anyway? So long as it was food and most of the right ingredients were in there, both Mae and her manager were satisfied.

She was alone on counter one day when Germ poked his little self into the store and started looking over the menu. He didn't even say hi. That didn't bother Mae—it was just his style. What bothered her was the pounding, pulsing surge of adrenaline she felt just from looking at him.

Oh crap.

"Germ, I don't want to be a bad order taker, but you should probably go. Like, now."

He looked at her but showed no signs of leaving. "Why for?"

Germ was probably a guy she could be straight with. "'Cause there's an evil thing in me that wants me to kill you. I didn't realize it was this bad, but it really wants me to kill you."

He tilted his head just slightly. "Are you going to?"

Mae's body started to shake. "No! I hope not! Get out of here, Germ!"

He looked back at the door, but didn't leave. "How would you do it if you were going to?"

"What, kill you?" Mae looked around. "I don't know—grab a frying pan and whack you with it?"

"Yeah, you probably couldn't do that. I'm quick. I could get away."

"You really want to take that chance?" Mae demanded, her fists balled.

"Well, you don't even want to kill me, though. So two things would have to go wrong. So yeah, I'm good."

"Germ, you little idiot."

"You want to tell me about this thing that's in you? It sounds pretty interesting."

"It's the thing from that night in the woods! I think it's mad at you for saving us from the well. It thinks you're disposable."

"Disposable? Like it doesn't need me?"

"I dunno. I think it thinks nobody needs you. It's like a humming feeling… this sense that if I killed you, it'd be so perfect, no one would ever know, and you'd be so delicious in its belly…" Mae could almost taste it herself.

"Might be true. I don't tell my family where I go. They might not find out who did it."

"Damn it, Germ, just get out of here and quit tempting me!"

He peered. "You're not really tempted, are you?"

"I mean, this is temptation. This feeling I'm having now is what temptation is. There's a tiny stupid piece of me that wants to carve you up and eat you for Thanksgiving."

"Never had someone tell me that before. Okay, I'll head on out, then."

Mae did her best to keep down the urges and the shaking. "Sorry, Germ. It'd be cool to hang out, but we can't just now."

"No that's fine, I get it. You working tomorrow morning?"

"I don't start until noon."

"Okay, I'll come back for a taco in the morning then. Let me know if you get exorcised or whatever."

Mae wished she knew an actual exorcist. But she somehow didn't think that would work. "Okay, I will."

Germ left, but he didn't seem hurried at all, or worried, really. She guessed he had a lot of faith in her to fight this thing. Too bad she didn't feel the same way.

Danny came out from the kitchen. "Did you just tell that customer you were possessed by something that made you want to kill him?"

Oh shoot. "Yeah. But it's okay, I know him. It's kind of an in-joke. Haha."

Danny shrugged. "Okay then. Let me know if it gets serious." He went back into the kitchen.

Sometimes it was nice working with someone as ridiculously… blasé as Danny. Was blasé the word? Something like that, anyway. But the unfortunate fact was, this was already pretty serious.

"This is the Yanceys'."

The voice seemed harried, like it was barely disguising the fact that every day was a struggle. "Uh, hi. My name's Mae, and I met a guy called Broderick at the eclipse in Turtle Rapids…"

"Oh right, he mentioned you," said the harried woman. Mae guessed she was his mother. "He's out somewhere, maybe in the woods. I can have him call you."

"Okay, yeah. Do… you know what he's doing in the woods?"

"Oh, god only knows," said the voice, its helplessness rising. "He doesn't even hunt. Why don't you ask him when you talk to him and let me know?"

"Um, okay. Tell him it's important or I wouldn't be calling. Thanks."

Mae was on the roof with Mr. Chazokov. They'd spent the last half hour looking at nebulas through his telescope, and now they had blankets over their shoulders. It was late September and starting to get chilly at night, but for some reason they were still sitting out there. Mae's thoughts were starting to go toward hot cider or cocoa, but she didn't mention it yet. Better to sit in the cold a little while longer before going in to warm up.

"Your friend Beatrice… she is looking different these days," he said into the silence.

Mae uncrossed and recrossed her legs. "Huh? Oh yeah. She's a lot cheerier now. Weird to think of that… but then, she used to be cheerful most of the time, back in grade school. So it's not like a totally new thing."

"It is not for me to question," said the astronomer. "But if you wished to tell me why she is this way…"

Mae let the heel of her boot kick the shingles. "It's kind of my fault. I stole her dream."

"You stole her dream? Kindly explain?"

Mae looked over the town, with its lights in the upper windows going out one by one. "I tried so hard to help her go to college that now she's given up on it forever. She's happier now."

"That is a strange thing. To be happier once one has lost one's dream, not gained it."

"You're telling me. But I guess it was like a thing she had to carry. Like ghost chains."

Mr. Chazokov was silent for a while. The last of the day's blue faded from the horizon. "Has she found a new dream?" he asked.

"I don't think so. I think she's just enjoying being rid of the old one."

"Such a strange thing," repeated the teacher, sighing.

"She told me the other day that she's done being angry at her father. He's emotionally disabled, but she made the choice to stick with him. And she's sticking with that choice."

"It may be for the best. To wear dark clothes and act gloomily… is a message to the world, is it not? It is a protest? Now perhaps she is taking responsibility."

"I don't know," said Mae. "It seemed like she was already responsible before. Responsibility was kind of her thing."

He was silent a while longer. "Well, it is not for me to argue with happiness," he eventually decided. "There is not enough happiness in the world. If she is happier now, so be it."

That seemed pretty fair to Mae. "Yeah okay. She can be happy."

"We will not stop her."

Mae thought about this for a while, then stood up on the roof. "You ready to go in? I could go for some hot cider."

Her host stood up as well. "All right! Let us go in through the window, and we can be happy too."

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mae."

"Broderick!"

"You called?"

Mae glanced into the other room, where her parents were chatting softly, having just gotten home from work. She used her hands to muffle the receiver. "Yeah. I haven't been feeling so good."

"Sorry to hear. Is it our mutual acquaintance?"

What a thing to call it. "Yeah. So, you got my last letter. About Bea?"

"Mm. I was about to write back."

"Well anyway. It's gotten worse. It's like it knows I won't respond to temptation, or at least it can't think of anything else to tempt me with, so now it's trying to force me to find a sacrifice."

"The carrot and the stick."

"Huh?"

"Like how you make a donkey go. Lure it with a carrot, or whap it with a stick."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess that's it! Bea was my only carrot, so now I've got a stick in me."

"It feels bad?"

"Really bad. Like I'm on drugs, but there's nothing I can get a fix from."

"Have you been sleeping?"

"Not a ton, and half the time I'm either murdering people, or dreaming of folks from my Grandpa's scary stories. And they're all working for the same being."

"Sorry. He's been in me too, but just lingering. Not tormenting me. I wonder if helping the Rackhams convinced it I couldn't be taken? Maybe I sanctified myself, in a manner of speaking."

Like a saint? Wow. "Maybe I should sanctify myself too," Mae suggested. But she didn't know if she could be as good as Broderick.

"Might be worth a try. There anyone around you that needs your help? Maybe someone who hurt you or yours?"

Mae couldn't think of anyone. Maybe Mr. Penderson? "I've got an old crotchety neighbor who's always crotching at me. I guess I could go see if he needs any help."

"Worth a try," repeated Broderick. "You're not about to give in, are you?"

Mae could imagine herself giving in all too well. "I'm scared, Brody. I'm starting to find myself making plans for how I would do it. There's even one guy in particular it wants me to kill. He's my friend, but I'm still thinking about it!"

"Is there anything else you can think about?"

Mae twitched. "I mean, I could just drown myself in video games or something. It wouldn't be the first time."

"Might not be a bad idea. Maybe better to drown yourself in good deeds, if you can. Insulate yourself. Convince it you aren't the one he wants."

"If I do that, will he find someone else and torment them instead?" Mae wondered.

"Search me. It's possible he simply won't stop until he finds someone he can corrupt."

Mae didn't want it to be her, but… "I don't want it to corrupt anyone! If it's going to corrupt someone, maybe it might as well be me."

Broderick was silent a few seconds. "Would you want to tell that to your friend? The one he wants you to kill?"

Germ would probably understand, but still. "No. But I could give it myself. If worse comes to worse, I can give it me. Then I can't be corrupted any longer."

More silence. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Well that's fine. But you're a good person, Brody. You shouldn't be thinking that way. I'm a lot more disposable. Maybe more disposable than anyone else it has a grip on. Maybe it should be me."

The fact that he didn't say no right away said a lot. "Try to hang in there, Mae. Don't let it get you to that point. Do good things, think good thoughts. Call me again if you have to. We'll get through this."

Mae pretended to agree, but all the while she was thinking, Should I go to Bruce? Could I really find him? And… could he save me from all this?

She didn't know how to find him, though. Even if she managed to convince Bea or Pastor K or someone to drive her two states away, and even if she went tramping through the woods… how would she find him? Maybe she could ask around in Mannetsburg if someone like him had come through. Maybe Broderick could help, since he knew those woods and had seen him too. But Broderick had already tried, and Bruce was nowhere to be found.

She could try anyway. She could take a wild leap into the unknown and try to save herself by surrounding herself with goodness. And she could risk losing everything in the process. She might never come back from her trip, and people would say, "I guess she went looking for that Hartley boy. Probably wound up wherever he did." And her parents would put up a Missing poster on the bulletin board.

Or she could throw herself into video games. That had seemed like the more realistic option from the get-go.

] hey Angus

) Mm?

] i think i'm turning into palecat.

) What?

] you know how you said we could talk demontower anytime?

) Oh. Of course. And you think you're… becoming Palecat?

] i mean i'm not turning white
] not yet anyway
] but i feel like i'm getting really thin
] not like, anorexic thin
] but like you could see through me.

) Are you actually losing opacity?

] if that's like sanity then yeah

] you know how palecat gets really weak sometimes cuz she's so tired?

) 'Fatigue' mode.

] yeah well

] i'm scared, Angus
] I'm not in fatigue mode but I feel like I want to sleep a hundred days.
] like my nerves are cooked

) Have you tried sleeping?

] Yeah but i can't
] i've got bad things on my mind and they won't go away
] bad things on my soul

) I have Gregg here and he says that sounds like a song.

] oh god hi Gregg

) He says hi and sends a slobbery kiss
) And he asks, "If you're like Palecat, does that mean you have a sword?"

] i wish i didn't

) ?

] it's like everything around me is a weapon
] like i could kill anything if i wanted to
] anything or anyone
] like my hands are telling me what to grab, how to use it,
] my feet are telling me where to leap, where to turn
] my parents are sleeping in the room below me and all I can think about is how i could kill them
] so easily

) Mae. Listen. Please.
) Try to keep control of yourself. Please don't do anything foolish.
) We love you. We care for you deeply.
) You need to find help, somehow.

] i don't think any 'help' is going to help
] not unless they lock me in a straight jacket and then I'll have to die that way
] what is a doctor going to do? They don't know how to deal with this.

) If I still lived in town I would hurry right over

] yeah good thinking on that one

) …I'm sorry?

] i'm sorry. that was mean of me. you were right to leave. you had every right to leave.

) Would it help to talk about something else?

] that's what i was trying to do but just like always it comes back to the killing.

) Please hang in there, Mae. Oh—Here's something. Did you ever think about why they changed Palecat's health bar in the update?

] what, u mean how she has only 9 health not 10?

) Right. I realized why that is.

] tell me

) She's a cat. Cats have nine lives.

] …
] ok but there is a difference between having nine lives and having nine hit points
] a hit point is not a life
] i feel like i may be down to one hitpoint tho
] but that's okay
] like palecat, i only need one hitpoint to destroy all enemies in my way

) No one is your enemy, Mae. Remember that. We all love you.

] even germ?

) Germ? I don't know if he loves you, but… he values you. As a friend.

] i'm gonna have to kill him
] i'm sorry Angus but it's stronger than me and it's bigger than me
] i tried asking mr. penderson if he wanted any chores done and he told me to get lost
] and i am. Angus, I'm so lost

) Mae, you can't do that. Please try to stay calm.

] so lost
] i'm gonna finish the game and kill everything
] every last enemy
] and when i'm out of enemies to kill i'll have to switch to real life
] i'm sorry, Angus. if i run out it's the only thing i can do.

) Mae, I think you should tell your parents what you're going through.
) Mae?
) Are you there?
) Please, if you're there, Mae, answer me.
) Mae?

She was so hungry.

She'd tried eating crackers. Fish. Soda and leftover salad. Nothing made her feel less hungry. She knew why that was—her hunger kept missing the food. It was like running your finger down the inside of a window pane when it was dewy on the outside. You couldn't scrape off the drops with your fingertip even if you went right over them. They were on a different plane. Just like that, her hunger was on a different plane than any food she could eat. It wouldn't satisfy her. And she was just going to keep getting hungrier.

Except blood. Maybe blood would be good enough?

Mae found a needle in her mom's sewing kit and went into the bathroom. She pierced her fingertip with it. She stared at the blood that appeared, then sucked it. Feeling like an idiot vampire, she sucked her own blood. It didn't help. If anything, it just made the urges worse. Make it flow.

She left the house. She didn't even remember going back to the attic to grab her bat, but there it was in her hand. She climbed a tree onto the powerlines and went dashing toward Town Centre, leaping from rooftop to rooftop. She knew where Germ lived. Suddenly she knew it, even though she'd only had a vague sense before that it was on the edge of the woods. She was going to have to go there. She knew which side his bedroom was on. Her bat would take the window. Her bat would take more than that.

But no, she wasn't doing that. Don't be an idiot, Mae. Go to the Food Donkey and smash in some robot heads. Go down to the subway level and smash up the guys on the mural—can't hurt if it's already ruined. Duck through the upper window and smash Mallard P. Bloomingro, if you have to. You care about him, so it'll count. Maybe you won't feel hungry anymore if you kill something you care about, even if it was never alive.

Before she could even think about whether to go there, she was on the window ledge. Her bat twitched; she wanted to smash the windows, but held back. Into the secret room she went. Into Mallard's tomb. There he was. You giant dumb thing. You monster. You leg-snapper. You big, beautiful king of the Spring Parade. Why are you smiling? How can a duck even smile? Mae stood heaving for a few moments, breaking through some kind of wall. Then she smashed her bat into his big dumb face and felt the crack so deep. So deep. He was a mess. A shambles after one hit. Dust rose, rat droppings rose into the air. Mae leapt around and destroyed the float with swing after brutal swing. She pretended she was destroying the statue in Durkillesburg. She breathed in the remnants of a rat family's shredded paper burrow and coughed through her anger, but turned the coughs into battle cries. She was staring at the dead tatters of what had once been her favorite thing. She stood still, waiting to see if the hunger would abate.

It was like her stomach was wailing. So close, but so wrong, so wrong! This was like eating cardboard fruit. No—it was like eating a big old funnel cake when what you really need is something substantial. This was cotton candy. This wasn't food. It was a cheat. It was a lie, a cruel lie. Mallard P. Bloomingro, how could you be so cruel?!

Her hunger unsated, Mae leapt from the window and swung her bat wildly. She ran along the ledge, smashing window after window—crash, crash, crash! She heard a voice yell "What the hell?" but kept bouncing and running and leaping, catching herself by the edge of her foot, by her toes, nearly tumbling and not even worrying about what would happen if she did.

Germ. She had to get to Germ's house. Windows and parade floats weren't substantial. They weren't a real sacrifice. Germ was. She had to take his blood. She had to throw him in a hole. He would fill her up. He would feed her, when nothing else would.

No no no no no damn it Mae you aren't Black Goat you aren't a monster don't go that way. Make your legs stop jumping! Don't go to the woods.

She stopped running, with effort. With great effort. She was on the roof of the video store. Her eye saw the giant rocket and she leapt onto it, jumping over and over and over. It crashed to the roof with an ugly, beautiful industrial clamor of destructive noise. She fell to the ground, nervously laughing, and realized:

This isn't going to get better. This isn't just tonight. This isn't something you're going to just get through. It was only going to get worse.

She had to surround herself with goodness. It was her only chance. Where could she go?

Mae was hopping up the steps to the church. She'd gone there for three Sundays now. It had been almost what she'd hoped for. A place where she could sit, feel like a child again, and pretend to be comfortable. People around her were taking solace, and that was solace in itself… almost. Pastor K was a good person with good thoughts, and that almost made her sermons good for the soul. Almost. She was in the church now, looking at the windows, the huge stained glass windows, with their beautiful flowers and circles of solace and grace and joy. She twitched her arms, holding her bat. She made a noise of despair. No, she heard herself think. No, no, not the windows. Not these beautiful windows.

Mae felt her body twist, her arms swing. She forced herself to slow down. There was a clack of wood on glass; the bat struck the glass, but nothing broke. Mae felt tears welling up. She wanted to be tired. She wanted to be out of power and out of time. But she wasn't. The great monstrous terrible thing was that she had so much destructive power in her, all the power she would ever need, and she wasn't tired in the slightest.

The sound of glass splintering was the most horrible sound Mae had ever heard. I'm a horrible person, she thought through the sight of colors and shapes falling ruined, connecting lines hanging empty of their figures. I'm such a horrible person. Such a horrible, horrible person. Her arms moved again. Glass tinkled again. More colors fell from this sacred place of beauty. More glass shattered. She was so horrible. The most horrible thing Mae knew was herself.

A stinging guitar chord sliced the air, setting everything on edge. B major, off-amp but almost as strong and twice as pure. Mae fell to her knees instantly, even before she thought to wonder what it was, whether it was real, whether she was dreaming again. She moaned in a squeal as she spun around and saw…

Oh, there were the tears. Now she was crying. Gregg was standing there with his guitar.

"So. Metal," his twerpish, mischievous voice said. He was staring at the smashed window. "Is this what we're doing tonight? Let's do this!" He leapt into the sanctuary and tossed his guitar, flipping it around and catching it by the neck. "Stick it to the man!"

"NO FUCK NO!" cried Mae, sprawling on the floor. She reached out for Gregg, who stopped himself mid-swing, about to smash his guitar into another window and see what broke. He turned to look at her, surprise in his eyes.

"No? We're not doing this?"

Mae groaned and forced herself to find words. "Gregg no, not that beautiful window, this is a place of beauty can't you see this is sacred don't ruin your guitar put that down pleeease, Gregg I love you but no crimes, no crimes…"

Gregg hopped over and sat down next to her, so fast Mae couldn't believe his energy. "No crimes, huh? That's not the Mae I know. Aren't you a radical girl? Don't you want to fight fascists?" He gestured around at the sanctuary, as if the church were a den of fascism.

I just want to eat, she wanted to moan. "Gregg… how the hell are you even here? Are you a dream?"

He smiled and shook his head. "Nope! Not a dream. I took the first Uber I found! Paid like two days' wages to get here in two hours. But for mayhem with my friend Mae, it's is totally worth it."

Mae wanted to twitch, but found the energy seeping out of her at last. Was that good? "No Gregg. No mayhem. I smashed a window. I smashed a stained glass window and Pastor K's gonna be so mad at meee…"

"You smashed a bunch more windows than that, I heard! Some guy in Town Centre was going crazy. Said he saw you run off this way and he was gonna call the police. I talked him into waiting 'til morning."

"…You did?"

"Well, it wasn't his windows you smashed. Having a big, crimey night?"

"Gregg, I'm so scared. I'm going to die or I'm going to kill someone, and I'm so scared!"

His guitar was on the floor now, his arms around her. How did he move so fast? "Shhh. You're with me now. We won't do a single crime if you don't want. Anything you say goes, Mae. We can do all the crimes, or none of them. Whatever you need right now, that's what we'll do. I'm with you, Mae. I'm with you 'til the end."

He says that, but what if I asked him to go help me murder Germ in his bed? He wouldn't help with that, would he? "Gregg, I can't believe you came all the way from Bright Harbor in the middle of the night!"

"Believe it. You were talking some pretty bleak nonsense on chat. Friends don't let friends go a night like that alone." His arms squeezed tighter.

"That's so…" It was touching, that's what it was. He was touching her. "Did Angus…?"

"That's actually funny. Angus is coming too, but you won't believe what he stayed behind to do. Unless it worked, and then maybe you'd believe it!"

Mae perked up. "What?"

"He decided to hack the Demontower server. You said you were gonna start killing people once you ran out of enemies, right? Well, he gets the idea that if he can just somehow hack in and set it to never run out of enemies, you'll be okay! Isn't that awesome?"

Mae lay half on the floor, half in Gregg's embrace, trying to remember what Demontower even was. "That's so totally awesome."

"I said, 'But you don't hack things! You're not a hacker!' And he brushed his hands together like he was a total bad-ass and said 'This is an emergency. I've got skills that've been waiting for an emergency.' And he got to work. And wow, Mae, I really wish I could've stuck around to watch my hero in action, but I had places to be. These places. Here, in this place, with you."

Mae swallowed. So much effort just for her. She was fading—she could hardly remember why she'd been so scared, or what this was all about. "You came to visit?"

Gregg knelt sloppily on the floor, still hugging her. "Totally. I'm visiting my favorite partner in crime. And my partner in no crime, too. Felt like a good time for a visit. You wanna do something? Maybe grab a taco?"

"It's the middle of the night," Mae pointed out.

"Fair enough. But I was actually gonna veto that idea, or anything that wasn't me hugging you, to be honest. I'm gonna hug all the troubles out of you."

"It doesn't work that way," Mae pled.

"Oh, it doesn't? Watch me." He closed his eyes, put his head against her chest, and hugged her tenderly.

Mae was melting. Her nerves were melting. She found herself lying on the floor of the church, her head in Gregg's lap. "Oh my god, Gregg."

"What's up?" he asked innocently.

"I love you so much."

"I know. Love ya too."

"Will you… maybe this is dumb, but will you play me a song?"

He nodded briskly, letting her go and picking up his guitar. "Sure!" He slung the strap over his shoulder. "What do you wanna hear?"

Mae didn't know or care. "Anything good. I just need goodness. I need to be… surrounded in goodness."

"You got it, ace." He slammed a resonant G major, then fell into a simple chord progression that came back home after eight bars, uplifting and comforting and a little bit like the sun peeking out from behind a house in the morning. More than a little bit. It was good, and Mae shook where she lay with the twin sensations of relief and hunger.

The song wasn't a song; it didn't have lyrics. But Gregg started to sing just the same:

"Shattered church window
Sparkles on the floor
Angry desecration
in the house of the Lord
People want salvation
People want relief
Who would do such damage?
It was no common thief

Sitting in the pew to hear what they have to say
About the ways of who they say works in mysterious ways
Nothing they can tell us will make sense any more
With fragments of the window scattered over the floor
Yeah, fragments of the window scattered over the floor…"

He sat up straight and entered a bodacious virtuoso sequence, strumming with relaxed confidence and the occasional sweep-pick thrown in, and it felt like rising over the clouds to meet the sun. He strapped on a capo Mae hadn't even known he owned and repeated nearly the same sequence an octave higher, and Mae realized Angus hadn't been the only one with skills stored up for an emergency. The song fell back to the eight-bar progression and Gregg sang again:

"Shattered church window
Saints in disrepair
Swing a baseball bat,
it's like they never were there.
People want protection
People want to live
Sometimes smashing windows
the best gift you can give

Sitting in the churchyard when the sun reappears
and hearing God say things God never meant for non-godly ears
Nothing God can tell us will make sense any more
With fragments of the window scattered over the floor…
Fragments of the window
Fragments of the window!
FRAGMENTS OF THE WINDOW SCATTERED OVER THE FLOOR!"

He banged the song home, waking Mae up from her stupor enough to get her to her knees, nearly to her feet. She sang along on the last line and stared through the broken window, feeling somehow that it was almost okay. "WOO!" she shouted, pumping her arm. "Did you seriously just make that up right now?"

Gregg was looking loose, ready for more music. "I made up the words! The tune's something I came up with when it was quiet at work. Didn't know what the right words were, but thanks to you, I think we've found them!"

He'd made up the words, right on the spot. Gregg was so amazing. "Does it mean anything?"

"I think it means a lot! Something about how it doesn't take much, and then WHAM—church doesn't make sense anymore!"

"Even if it seemed like it did?"

"Especially if it seemed like it did."

Wow. Gregg was so profound sometimes. "Does church need to make sense?"

He shrugged. "Does anything?"

"I guess not. Maybe. Can you play me another?" For all Mae knew, this might be the last night she ever had to hear music. She could still feel the urges rising, waiting for the music high to crumble, waiting to ride her second wind to murdertown. But for now, Gregg's fingers were strumming the strings again, and this time it was gentle.

Mae listened for a while as he transitioned lightly from major to minor, gliding from one chord to another with no big surprises. He even closed his eyes and rocked his head, and she found herself accusing:

"Gregg! Is this a douchebag song?!"

He grinned guiltily. "Felt like you deserved a nice douchebag song. It's not really so bad, is it?"

"Gregg, you're such a douche!" But really, it was nice. It was just what Mae needed.

"And you're my friend."

Mae stood up and imagined herself playing bass for this piece. She would wreck this douchey chord progression. She would undermine it with subversive timbres. She would transform it. She mimed playing her instrument, strumming the empty air that didn't seem so empty, ignoring the boiling in her blood, or using it to heighten things. Gregg saw her and grinned. He got to his feet too, and they played together, adding licks and attitude to the douchey song until Gregg was full-out shredding and Mae knew just what she'd be doing if only she'd brought her bass guitar with her.

"Hey, wanna come back to my place with me so I can get my bass?" she suggested.

"Sure! Maybe pick up some more instruments of destruction while we're there."

"Or creation," she suggested.

"Creation is cool too. Skate to create!"

So they went back. Mae didn't have a skateboard, but she did dress up in her Witchdagger outfit, and she did have a pair of cymbals and a snare drum she'd borrowed from Casey, and they trucked all that back to the church in the middle of the night. Neither of them discussed why they were going back to the church; somehow they both knew it was the place they had to go. At any moment, Aunt Molly could appear in her squad car, or someone else could yell at them, or the pastor could show up and ask what happened to her window… but none of that happened, and Mae hung together, her murderous hunger masked by genuine excitement and friendship and music.

They played for hours in the church, banging out improvised songs and classics with a new tinge, or just banging on the cymbals and drum and shouting about anger and blood and goodness and love and how mixed up it all was. Gregg's enthusiasm never wavered; he never took a break unless Mae did too; he never left her and was always ready with a hug when she felt like she was losing it again. And Mae's mind was a mess of visions. Germ's body sliding down a cabin rooftop, oozing blood; but other people too, all dead or dying, all seeping apart, all sliding down holes into the heart of the world, never to come back. Her parents. Danny and her other coworkers. Mrs. Miranda and Mr. Penderson, Pastor K and Mr. Chazokov, the Forresters and the Harleys, Selmers and Lori and the pierogi guy and the Smelters fan, Bea and Gregg and Angus, all sliding down that endless tube, falling apart as they did, red on dusky orange on red on black, silhouettes for the last part of their lives. She sang it out. She rocked it out. She drummed it out. The sky got lighter and Mae kept shredding her bass, and Gregg was always there with a chord. She was running out of energy. She was falling to pieces, like the people in her visions. She was in the tube herself now, sluicing her layers away, falling to bloody chunks in the background of her mind. And in her fading vision was the majesty of the church, the glory of its surviving windows, the beauty of its stonework, the awesomeness of the rising sun.

Mae stood in darkness. She was holding her bass guitar. The church was nowhere to be seen. Gregg was nowhere to be seen. She didn't remember having fallen asleep.

She looked up and saw a huge eclipse, filling the sky. Just the edges of the sun were peeking around the rim of a monstrous moon.

She looked straight ahead and saw…

…for the first time, she saw…

A goat. A black goat, barely more than a silhouette, like the one from the painting in the Historical Society. Black and large and looming, but thin. So thin. She could see its ribs, the folds of its neck, its withered thighs. Emotion hit her in an onslaught—complicated emotion that had a flavor, but she couldn't quite sort out what she was feeling. Anger and fear, definitely. Hunger, yes. Deep hunger. Desperation. Resignation or something like it. Resentment. How can you do this to me? the emotion seemed to say. I'm so hungry. Why won't you feed me?! How can you do this to me?

But that was just her imagination. There were no words. Just a rolling molasses tide of half-comprehensible alien emotion.

I'm dying, it seemed to say. I'm almost gone. I've never been so hungry. How can you be so cruel? Don't you love me? FEED ME, PLEASE FEED ME!

The goat's tail wavered slowly in the darkness; its beard and hair blowing in a silent wind, its muscles slowly shifting in tiny ways. Its backbone stood out, starved and stark. There was so little movement, but so much emotion, walls and walls of it. Mae struggled to answer any way she could under the weight of the emotions she felt. "I can't! I can't feed you! It just…" The emotions stopped. Mae was back on her feet, having fallen, or maybe just imagining she'd fallen. She found her words and spoke softly.

"I can't feed you. You eat people! There's nothing I can do. What if… one of those people wanted me to feed you to them? Would that be fair? I couldn't do both. So it's not fair. Do you see what I mean?"

A perversion of the concept of fairness struck her, as if fairness had been stroked over with a pitchfork made of domination and supremacy and fear. Like it was trying to understand.

Mae shook her head. "I know you're hungry. I've felt it so hard. So hard. But I can't feed you anyone. That's just… that's not something you can ask!"

Hope and pity and lameness. A cry for help. The goat begged her with its emotional presence. It beseeched her. It stayed standing, but snuggled its emotional head under her feet and put its emotional chin to the ground. It wailed and cried and trembled. Mae stood there in horror and just kept thinking back: No. No. No.

Then something snapped. A blanket of sadness, resignation, regret and so much else poured over her. A glow emanated from the ground. Mae looked down at her bass guitar.

She wasn't holding her bass anymore. She was holding her baseball bat.

The goat, scrawny and wilting, looked at her. She looked at it. She looked at the big, glowing blue spot on the ground.

Feeling emotions she couldn't possibly describe, Mae swung her bat and slammed it into the ground. The blue spot tore apart and shreds of the ground fluttered through the air. Utter blackness filled the void beneath.

The goat stepped forward once more, peering through the hole. Mae looked too. It was filled with utter blackness, yes, but there was something else as well. Blue, shifting sands. A desert of stone and blackness. The place where she'd spoken with the God Cat. It was there, beneath her now. She could probably float down there if she wanted, but she might never come back.

Black Goat looked at Mae once more, and a missile of emotion struck her. Resentment. Anger. Spite. Lost hopes. Hunger. Hatred. Relief. Sadness. And love. Even love.

Then it dove through the hole and out of sight. A huge colorless circle and crossbar flashed over everything for an instant, then vanished forever.

Mae suddenly felt so light. So incredibly light that she forgot what she was doing there, or where she was. She shot upward and tumbled, and the blueness went away, and the hole went away, and everything went bright.

She was in church. She could tell. The colors streaming through the windows, the high ceiling, the hard wood under her body. Her head was on something soft. Gregg. She was in Gregg's lap. Angus was there, kneeling on the floor, watching her. Bea was there, sitting next to her. Pastor K was there in the distance, standing against the wall. Everything smelled so fresh. Everything felt so light, so breezy. Mae took a breath and watched everyone realize that her eyes were open.

"Oh god, guys. Look," said Bea. "She's awake."

"Mae?" said Angus.

Gregg stirred, and Mae could tell he was sleepy. "What? Mae? You awake, duder?"

"Oh my god," said Mae, and for once she meant it. "Oh God, what happened? Why do I feel like this?"

"Like how?" asked Gregg.

"Like… like a helium balloon. I feel like if you let go of me, I'd just float away."

Pastor K shifted her posture at that. She'd been quietly watching, but now said: "You were in really bad shape last night, according to Gregg. We were really worried."

"You're not going to float away," said Bea, lifting Mae's arm. "Just for the record. That doesn't happen, and besides, you don't feel any lighter than usual."

Mae gulped. She slowly removed Gregg's arm from her belly, slowly stood up. They all watched her stand.

"Oh wow." A thought struck her. "Could this… is this just what it feels like being normal?"

"Oh yeah! I bet it is!" said Gregg. "I think you got it!"

Mae turned slowly in place, looking at everything. The smashed window that made her twinge with regret, but didn't awaken the sheer horror she'd felt last night. The sunlight. The altar. The distinct lack of murderous thoughts.

She felt so clean inside. It was amazing. She'd never known anyone could feel this clean.

"It's gone," she told them. "It's gone. It's really gone." Then, instead of slumping down, like she felt she ought to, she started to laugh and skip around. Everyone moved out of her way as she skipped from one end of the church to the other, laughing higher and higher. "OH MY FREAKING GOODNESS, IT'S GONE!" she cried. She knew now that this wasn't just something that had been bothering her since the eclipse, or even since she'd moved back to town. This was something that had been in her since…

Since that day when she was thirteen, and everything had gone to shapes. Since the day of 'the incident'. Since she'd gone from little Mae Borowski to 'Killer'.

The shirt with the circle and crossbar, the 'null' symbol—she'd made that in Home Economics the week after she'd returned to school. It had been the first thing she'd made and she hadn't known why. Now she knew. That symbol had been Black Goat, talking to her. It had been with her, even then. It had been with her for all that time. Now it was gone.

She pranced, laughing, out of the sanctuary and crashed into something small. As she fell onto her back with an "Ooof!" she realized it was Germ. He fell back too. Both of them lay there, looking at each other.

"Germ! What the heck are you doing here?"

"Just here to see you. I wanted to wait in there, but they said you weren't Germ-safe. That you were still obsessed with murdering me. So I waited outside."

Wow. "I'm pretty sure I'm Germ-safe now. Actually, I'm totally sure. I can't remember the last time I was so sure of anything. You're… you're not mad?"

"Nah, I'm not sore. You were possessed by a demon—wasn't your fault."

Mae laughed. "I guess that's true! Most people wouldn't just accept that so easily, though."

Germ shrugged. "I've seen some weird stuff."

Pastor Kate stepped out into the hallway and looked things over. "I take it you're feeling all right, Mae."

Mae sprang to her feet. "I can't begin to express how all right I feel. I feel so many levels better than right I don't even know what to call them."

Angus stood there with his hat over his chest. He didn't say anything, but Mae could tell he was almost shaking with relief. Bea spoke up: "Gregg was here with you all night, you know. He stayed the full course. I didn't think anything could wear him out, but you pretty much managed it."

Gregg was a little shaky on his feet, but he was grinning and energetic. "Love ya, dude."

Mae dashed over and hugged him fiercely. "Gregg Gregg Gregg. Greggory, you saved my life. Probably someone else's life too. I mean that, you saved my life last night, you really did. You're a hero. You're a straight up hero."

Gregg rubbed his cheek against her hair. "Pfff. You woulda done the same."

Mae realized he was right. She would have. "Still a hero though," she muttered.

"To be perfectly clear," said Bea. "Black Goat isn't around anymore?"

"Nope. I outlasted it. It nearly got me, but thanks to Gregg here I outlasted it and it gave up. I smashed a hole in reality and it jumped back through to where it came from."

"Wow," said Angus.

Gregg waved his noodly arms despite his sleepiness. "We beat it!"

Mae did the same. "WE BEAT IT!"

Bea pointed to a dustpan and broom into which she'd swept the loose fragments of stained glass. "You also broke a very expensive window."

Mae kept noodling her arms. "I'll totally pay for it! Hey Pastor K, I'm totally your slave until I've paid for the window, okay?"

The pastor was visibly surprised, but didn't seem mad. "All right. We'll work out a repayment plan. I'm not entirely convinced that what you've gone through was genuinely… what you think it was. But I'm… willing to listen."

"She's willing to listen!" exulted Gregg.

"She's willing to listen!" echoed Mae.

"Looks like everything's working out here," said Germ. "I think I might mosey on out. See you next band practice, everyone."

Mae ran over to give him a hug. "I owe you a taco."

"Oh, sure, you can give me a taco next time you see me."

Mae made a mental note; she really would. "All right, guys. You want details, and you deserve details. If my owner says it's okay… who's up for Donut Wolf?"

Gregg cheered. Bea nodded; Angus tipped his hat. "I wouldn't mind tagging along to Donut Wolf," said the pastor.

"We're doing this," declared Mae.

"Just want to cover over the window with something before we go," said Pastor K. "So raccoons and birds don't get in."

"Maybe a tapestry?" Bea suggested.

So Mae helped them duct tape an heirloom tapestry over the window. It felt like a really funny, ugly, beautiful thing to be doing. And as they all left the church and piled into two cars headed for Donut Wolf, Mae realized that she couldn't decide whether she'd just lived through the shortest or the longest night of her life.

If this was what being normal felt like, she hoped she got used it to fast. She didn't know if she could handle this much normal for long!

A/N: o/` Sitting in the churchyard when the godhead appears
And that's when we find out that God's got cups on his ears… o/`

This was a pretty emotional chapter to write. What did you think? Next chapter is definitely the last.

I wonder what weird stuff Germ's seen that makes him take weirdness so lightly. Someone should write a story about that!