"Sorry to disturb you," he said. "We're here about the shop next door. Atrum Arcana appears to be closed, and I was hoping you might know whether that's temporary or it's shut down for the day." He gave a wry smile. "I'm sure you don't keep an eye on your neighbor's comings and goings, but we've traveled some distance, so I thought I'd ask."

"Atrum Arcana?"

She looked at Jeremy with renewed interest, her eyes glittering behind her cat's-eye glasses. If she noticed me, she gave no sign of it. It seemed that the farther I got from thirty, the more invisible I became to twenty-somethings-the men I was with became fair game.

"I don't know what's up with Eric today," she said. "I haven't seen him. But maybe I could help. I know some people who sell pretty much the same stuff. What exactly did you have in mind?"

"Wiccan amulets. For a niece. I heard his store carries a large selection."

"Oh."

As her interest cooled, Jeremy walked to a display of mystical symbols. "These are very nice. Not for her just yet, though I'm sure she'll be asking for one in a few years. Are you a practitioner?"

"Nah. I just draw what the customers want. Occult stuff is hot."

"This is your work, then?"

She nodded.

He traced his fingertips over an ankh. "Beautiful. Maybe when she's older. Thank you very much for your time."

She stood as he turned to go. "Here's my card. And about Eric? No idea where the guy is, which is weird. He never opens late, never closes early. Takes his business seriously. I was a little worried when he didn't open, so I tried his home number. Left a message. Nothing."

"Something probably came up," Jeremy said. "We're in town for a couple of days. We'll call tomorrow, before we come out."

"And if he doesn't answer, give me a ring. Maybe I'll know something."

As she retrieved a business card, he eyed a smaller display of symbols. Simple ones in black and white. Even as she handed him the card, he pulled his gaze away from the display only for a moment, with a distracted "thank you."

Another lingering look at the symbols, then he put his fingers on my arm and headed for the door. He made it halfway, stopped and slowly turned.

"I noticed you have a number of runes there," he said, nodding at the display.

The young woman beamed. "Yep. A specialty of mine. I love them. Elegant, you know?"

Jeremy nodded, still hesitating, as if contemplating something. After a second, he walked back toward the woman.

"There are a few I've seen, and never been able to place."

"What do they look like?"

He nodded at her sketch pad and murmured, "May I?"

She passed it over. He sketched two symbols. I watched with a vague sense that I'd seen them before, but couldn't remember where.

"You're an artist," the woman said, her appraising smile returning. "I can tell."

A small nod from Jeremy, not quite admitting it. He finished his sketches. The young woman studied them, them shook her head.

"They look kind of like a couple of the Elder Futhak ones, and a bit like Hungarian but not quite either." She picked up the paper, lifting it into a better light. "Very nice, though. Can I keep them?"

I expected Jeremy to say, "Yes, of course"-his usual good manners-but he hesitated, as if he'd like to refuse but wasn't sure how. After a moment he nodded.

"So, what's your medium?" she asked.

His gaze was distant, mind elsewhere. A blink as he reluctantly returned. "Oil, mainly."

"Cool. Mine's ink, as you might have guessed."

She chatted for another few minutes, Jeremy murmuring appropriate responses and complimenting her work. He gave no sign of his preoccupation or his impatience. Only someone who knew him would pick up the subtle hints, that cool veneer to his words, that emptiness in his eyes. I laid my fingers on his arm.

He nodded. "We should be going."

"Here," she said, plucking the business card from his hand. She wrote two numbers on the back, then smiled at him. "My home and cell. In case you ever want to discuss runes or art."

Art, my ass. But I followed Jeremy's cue, smiling and thanking her for her time.

As we stepped onto the sidewalk, I said, "Those are two of the runes on the babies' blankets. The ones Elena said you had quilted for them."

He nodded.

"Like the symbols in Clay's room. On his comforter and his walls. Elena said you found Clayton's comforter years ago and painted the walls with the same symbols, to match. She said you had the babies' blankets done that way as a joke. Only you didn't find that comforter, did you? You had it made. Like the blankets. And they aren't a joke."

He looked over sharply, brows arched.

"Where do they come from?" I asked. "The symbols."

A pause, then he tapped the side of his head. "As for how they got in there?" An odd look crossed his face, frustration with a chaser of something sad. "No idea. I just…"

He shrugged and kept walking, as if he wanted to leave it at that. Then, when we were almost in the car, he said, "It's a… compulsion, I suppose. With Clay's room when he was younger. With the babies now. Even Elena has some in her bedroom." A twist of a smile. "Hidden, of course. If she found them, she'd think I was mad."